


Cheeky

by stylinourry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Fluff, Freeform, Louis is a Christmas tree, M/M, Male Slash, Special one-shot for my bestie KL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5521712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinourry/pseuds/stylinourry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry describes his odd fascination with Louis’ tan, satiny cheeks, and to say they drive him “crazy” is a <i>laughable</i> understatement.</p><p>*•*•* Reposted from Fanfiction.net*•*•*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheeky

**Author's Note:**

> Full of body-worshipping and cheek-adoring with mild smut at the end. This is old so please don't mind any grammatical/spelling/technical errors scattered here and there. Doesn't it sound odd in Harry's POV? Eh, it's the first time I wrote it this way :)

In the sunlight they’re a golden bronze, making me feel tingly and warm inside.

I’m talking about…yeah…you know—Louis, if you haven’t figured it out. Well, regardless, those light olive facial lumps of skin must be some kind of unfortunate curse meant to reduce me into a melted puddle.

Not that I’m complaining. I should stop my ramble spree now.

On some days they’re relaxed, winding up into brilliant half crescents above his dazzling pearly whites as Louis laughs, the melodic, vibrant chime of his voice sending me into hypnotism that I’m often unaware of until one of the lads—mostly Zayn—kick me ‘round the legs so I don’t totally give myself away during interviews.

Liam glowers at me from the corner of my eye as I freely poke Louis’ glowing cheek with a single index finger and the older boy grins cheekily, proceeding to slip his free hand over my thigh and squeeze it in a manner subtle enough that it slips from the interviewer’s notice. I bite back the urge to giggle, blood vessels rushing instantly into clumps beneath my skin cells and the rapid beat of my heart banging against my constricting chest.

Niall stares knowingly in our direction, recognition written in his baby blues, and he chuckles, knowledgeable of our secret escapade. If anything, the fans watching our live broadcast would catch onto it like a cat pouncing excitedly on a mouse but I really couldn’t care less.  
A secret Louis and the boys _don’t_ know, however, is my manic adoration of his tan cheeks.

I would kill myself if they found out because, knowing them inside and out, they’d never let me live this down.

~~

Those cheeks tease me a meter away from where I sit behind Louis as Lou Teasdale scatters foundation generously across my forehead with a thin bristle brush, and right at that second I want nothing else in the world so desperately except Louis’ golden cheeks. I want to plant kisses on them until my lips bruise and chap. I want to put the privilege of having a beautiful human like him who is _mine_ to good use. I don’t think I’m insane dwelling on that. Am I?

My hungry eyes follow the brush I’m suddenly envious of as they skim over and dip down into Louis’ cheeks and I sigh, imagining my mouth in place of that dark stupid brush.  
The older boy manages to connect my glazed gaze with his confused own in the mirror, but he winks at me the instant I look away.

_Damn him and his bronze cheeks._

The tips of my ears are alight from embarrassment, yet the emotions flooding simultaneously into my head are infused with a great amount of want. Pretty boy should be on guard.

~~

The crew let us off the hook for a short while, allowing the boys and I to roam wherever we want in the span of two hours. Louis drags me along to a brightly illuminated Starbucks across the street from the radio station complex, and I resist rolling my eyes at him and scowling from the rather… uncomfortable times Louis had with a certain female for his false reputation’s sake. I admit, it took me quite a lot of willpower to keep from stomping my feet in her presence as childish as it sounded.

“Oh come _on_ \- if I was taller than you I’d sling you over my shoulder, march inside and not care what pricks think!” Louis tugs impatiently on my arm like a toddler eager for a pint of ice cream. I stubbornly stick my tongue out at him as I grimace after muttering a low “Don’ wanna go in,” but I couldn’t help the elated expression on his flawless face that makes my stomach swoop. Who would say no to _him_? I feel myself spiral into the usually whipped state he holds over me, masses of butterflies fluttering within my gut.

Seeing that there weren’t hordes of people around who might identify us I swiftly kiss him on the cheek, very satisfied at how his smile was beaming up at me. “Fine,” I said, sneaking in four, five, six more clandestine kisses onto those stretches of flesh crunching into incredible dimples as Louis blushes, flustered and cherry red. His grin-

“ _Harry_ , what if they see-”

“Don’t care,” I whisper in his ear, pulling us both into the coffee restaurant.

_You don’t know what you and your ridiculous cheeks are doing to me._

~~

A final burst of adrenaline courses through my veins as I wrap my part of our song on a strong prolonged note, and the audience in the domed arena cheers, their piercing screams rattling our eardrums. The spotlight dances energetically through our five-man formation and the yells heighten to a deafening peak; Niall jumps in the air with his legs outstretched, landing gracefully on two feet. He elicits thunderous screams from thousands of adolescent teenage girls and I grin madly, stepping forward to contribute a bold move of my own.

The 75-feet plasma screens perched on either side of the dome showcase my rapid hip thrust as I successfully rip my grey top open, the first three buttons popping off and exposing the pale, sweaty, glistening white of my chest and defined collarbones. The audience goes berserk then, shrill voices reaching what sounded like 95 decibels accompanied by a wild climax of screaming that makes goose bumps break out along my skin. Zayn guffaws beside me, clutching at his sides as I twirl, arms wagging in a goofy way. “You’re _cray_ , mate!” he exclaims.

I laugh when I glimpse myself on the large screens, girls beating their breasts and ripping their hair out and crying and yelling and fainting until there’s no oxygen left for them to desensitize their scorched lungs.

Mussing my mane of curly brown hair I look over at Louis, smugly positive my little stupid plan had worked, and my heart gives a huge leap at what’s written on his handsome, sparkling face. He’s torn between intense jealousy and amusement, ocean blue orbs flashing ominously; I smirk, onstage desire engulfing my senses when Louis’ damp tan cheeks fold to compliment his furtive scowl, lips pursed together. I can clearly tell he’s having an inner conflict, deciding whether he should pummel me into the stage floor or pretend he’s unfazed (and he was doing a horrible job at it).

Niall sees our exchange and chortles, shaking his head alongside a perturbed Liam. I happened to get the reaction I was aiming for, and those attractive cheeks were going to receive a slew of endless contact from me after the show.

I _loved_ envious Boobear if it meant I would be punished for tonight. I knew how much he loathed the massive female attention I purposefully produced with a burning passion, and when his possessive nature kicked in I tended to oblige to his every demand of me. Well – he was also going to have to understand why, sooner.

He was driving me over the edge.

And it’s all because of those golden sun-kissed cheeks.

~~

The quite hollow feeling of being ignored by Louis as we drove home churned the contents of my stomach until the moment we stepped over the threshold into the open door of our flat, the boys’ distant howls of laughter behind us resonating throughout the complex.  
Louis said nothing when the show ended, bristling past me in a manner that need not be told via words that he hated my little selfish stunt. Again - he didn’t understand! I was ridiculous and idiotic and crazy for it but…he had to _wait_.

I should be guilty, prepared to face the older boy’s onslaught of angry tones and speedy curses, however it’s the last thing I’m concerned about.

I remain cool, embers of simmering desire still glowing in my blood and ready to burst out of me any time now; my post-concert high was still _very_ present in my head and offered me a daring, bold, not quite wasted attitude.

I follow Louis to the dim living room as he soundlessly dumps our belongings on the silver silk pillows of the couch, rubbing his brown tousled hair that lost its shimmering shine hours ago. He stalks over to the kitchen and reaches for his orange bedazzled mug. Then I realize he’s making late night coffee brew. I notice his small dainty hands are trembling madly; I figure it’s the right time for me to play.

Louis would hate me, no doubt, for tricking him in this absurd way because of my insatiable obsession with his cheeks, but I knew his weaknesses well like the back of my hand: they were etched into my brain tissue, you could say. He would transform into mush at my advances, undemanding of who was the oldest in the relationship. Cat and mouse…what a decent way to describe one hilarious aspect of it. Louis will find out I didn’t mean to act like that deliberately tonight, and everything would be absolutely normal - I hoped.

I pad after him, slowly sliding into the metal stool across the kitchen counter. His cotton-clad back faces me, arms busy as he scoops cacao coffee beans into the coffee maker, the appliance buzzing with evaporated boiling water. 

My hooded stare burns Louis’ neck, and the air of taut tension surrounding us like an iron vice loosens when he turns around halfway to acknowledge my presence.

His gaze rakes over my face, and the sour bitterness evident in his eyes nearly cracks my resolve; I almost fall to my knees, grab Louis into a bone-crushing hug and pepper him with kisses and whispers and apologies, but no.

I don’t look away from him however, and my stare is transfixed on his bothered expression. I’m momentarily blinded by the supple red color flushed among his bronze cheeks now and it takes an ounce of my willpower to not pounce on the boy and…devour….him. Or do something else of the sort.

Clenching my fists beneath the wooden lacquer table, I keep him - and those damned cheeks - the center of my objectives.

Louis turns back to his coffee for five agonizing minutes, and he wordlessly pours a steaming cup for himself. I soon sense the annoyance radiating off of him in waves, and I shift in my seat, on the verge of pulling off my rather poor “strategies”. I remind myself that reckless abandon isn’t an option to consider here.

I stand up, socked feet gliding towards Louis, and my ribcage pounds with new found want, taking over my better reasoning.

I wrap my arms snugly around his waist and feel him stiffen instantly at the touch, irritation clear in the stubborn manner he tried to pull violently away from me. His struggles are only met with my tightening grip on his lower body, and Louis gives up, yet his anger doesn’t cease that easily, knowing him. He channels the emotion through his jerky leg movements; at one point closely kneed the fated area between my groin using the heel of his foot, a sly smile playing on my lips.

“How _dare_ you think I’d let you cuddle me after you seduce 15,000 screaming girls eager to get in your _pants_ , Styles-” he began, his jaw set as he attempted to pry himself out of my grasp once again, yet the furious venom coating his raspy, quite sexy tone fails to affect me.

_I love sexy._

I rest my chin upon the crook of Louis’ neck, and he trails off; I sense the warmth flood through his skin like a river, although he emphasizes how unimaginably upset he is by jabbing his bony elbows into my sternum. The pain blossoms for a while, throbbing beneath my skin and activating the whines of bright red warning signals in my head, but I’m still unfazed, never removing myself from my current position.

“You know I’m only yours, _Boo_ …,” I cooed, the words rolling smoothly off the tip of my tongue; whispered against the soft shell of his ear. Louis trembled, shivers rippling like rain drops among his skin, and I watched various emotions - confusion, anger, _lust_ \- embody his conflicted expression, until it settled into a strange, wild mask, mouth slightly agape. Satisfaction soaked my nerves as quick as an ice cube melted from heat exposure, and I also felt entirely smug. 

“I’m serious, Harry! I hate it when you flirt with them and I’m right there standing beside you and I have to fucking pretend I’m okay when I’m completely not because my own _boyfriend_ decides to tease them on fucking _purpose_ and I want him to myself be-“

“Of course you want me, Lou,” I breathe, cutting his rage short.

“No, I’m… _mad_ …at you,” Louis mutters and pouts like an utterly cute baby (I bite down a squeal that would split the last piece of masculinity I have), yet his body betrays him, shudders rippling beneath a series of gentle wet kisses I press along an expanse of smooth tan neck without so much a shred of hesitation.

“Not anymore.” I chuckle throatily, nipping at the tip of his earlobe. Louis releases a broken moan, and tilts his neck to the side in order for me to gain easier access. 

The sound he made produced a low pining twang in my abdomen, hovering dangerously close above the waistline of my trousers; leaking with the want I’ve kept at bay. I finally succumb to temptation, delving deeper into the older boy’s junction and biting carelessly - desperately - at the skin using the ridges of my teeth.

Louis shakes, his tiny hands fumbling for my arms and he clutches onto me, breathing raggedy…laboured.

“ _D-dammit_ , Harry,” Louis whispers, longing soaked in his quiet, pleading voice.

I explode then, an assorted array of happiness mixed with lust implanting itself into my head like a burst of lightning; a deafening snap of firecrackers and incoherence dominates my tongue, allowing my mouth to do the work. 

I sucked on, prodded on and bit sensitive bronze tissue, reaching blindly for every little sliver of skin I could find; lips of mine burned blazing trails behind, and Louis whimpered, throwing his head back.

He tugged in silent desperation at my waist, both of us encircling the counter in a tangled mass of limbs, and he breathed hotly - lividly - into my open, panting mouth as we steered backwards, stumbling into the living room. 

I finally had him wrapped around my finger: in my grasp, just like I said, and the cheeks that were my borderline obsession now rubbed past my jaw. He was mine again tonight.

He was my Louis and my boobear. 

Only mine.

Mission accomplished.

~~

"H-Harry," Louis moans into my neck, hot breath fanning out along my flushed face, and I sink Louis' lovely body further down into the duvet, our frames rocking back and forth. It's hilarious, witnessing an eager Louis who hitched his curvy expenditure of legs even higher above my waist cry silently from pleasure, but of course I feel absolutely flattered. 

This entire plan was executed perfectly. Who knew? 

Except I deserved a punch in the gut for lending Louis torture. It made my insides wilt, dead, to see his usual luminous, eye-crinkling grin be replaced with a sombre pout and furrowed eyebrows all because of me. I promised myself to never succumb to my own selfish incentives again before considering how Louis felt. 

I bent my face down, kissing away Louis' salty, dispersed tears, and he sniffs. 

Louis was divine.

He was beautiful.

And I often struggled, with an embarrassing shyness, to accept the fact that this ethereal man really was all mine.

His golden skin was statuesque underneath the dimming light of the sunset, and his eyelashes were like a frond cluster of feathers; his button nose was a small feature of his that couldn't possibly be amiss, and his body, spanning his tiny feet to the tips of his brown mousy hair, was my temple. When Louis expressed his insecurities to me I felt ugly aches constrict my chest, and I would murmur to him in hushed tones how perfect he was...how unique and precious he was, and how no one in this world could match Louis' physicality and mentality, in both personality and physique. No one.

Narrow-minded idiots be damned.

"I love you," I whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his arched neck, and Louis looks at me, glazing blue orbs fond and affectionate and alluring. My heart swells to an enormous size that I nearly almost believe I'm undergoing cardiac arrest. 

"I love you too," he pants, his small hands grazing the sides of my pale torso. "So, so much, Hazza. I'm just...I'm so thankful to have y-you-"

His tone breaks, meek, little crying sounds coming out of his delicate mouth, and I hush him. He sobs faintly and freely, and soon enough the sensation of prickling tears running down in rivulets upon my own cheeks makes us both unite in one shimmering dance of the love we have for each other.

Boundless, eternal love.

I thrust harder upwards, and Louis keens, more tears spilling out like crystals; I kiss him over and over and over, determined to dissipate every shred of sadness, sorrow, grief and pain that he holds within. Louis can't be touched. I shall protect him. The mattress springs squeak, noises intensifying as I drive harder into tight heat, each thrust containing a measure of love that I so desperately wanted to show him. 

This wasn't a rough, sloppy and violent session. I didn't, at all, want that at the moment. 

Louis needed my love, therefore I was giving every blinding ounce of it to him. 

"I...love...you," I whisper, and groan, in between jerky movements, a slick, rapid tightening starting to inhabit my lower abdomen. Louis pants, incoherent, in reply, whining now as my thrusts increasingly grow more erratic, uneven and speedy, seeking release. The mere sounds our auditory canals hear are our voices, submerged into pure layers of moans and throaty manifestations coupled with the loud clack of the headboard against the wall. 

It builds, instantly bursting into an ominous firework of white-hot wires singing my body. Sparks detonate everywhere, filling the backs of my vision; I freeze, idle, and my worn body trembles like a metal teapot, Louis stroking me and comforting me. Warm liquid pools between our forms, and he, too, follows suit. 

Our foreheads join together - a wordless exchange - and I graciously pull out of Louis, cuddling him close and holding his porcelain body in my strong arms: shields, from the outside world's threats, bared teeth and odious things. 

Louis' temperate palm cups my sodden cheek, and I lean into it, purring, albeit absentmindedly, at his care. 

"I knew you were trying to make me jealous, Haz."

I grin, pecking his temple. "I'm so sorry, Lou-"

"Don't be," he retorts, voice gentle. "I get a nice kick out of seeing you find ways to hog my attention." Louis laughs, sounding like the peal of bell chimes swaying in the breeze outside a quaint country-side cottage.

"And I get a nice kick out of that green mask of envy you wear when I-"

" _Shut up_! Sod."

I snigger, and he tilts my head, pressing a pliant, illuminating kiss against my lips.

My "obsession" with Louis' cheeks have ebbed away into a single drain; everything else that embodied Louis - the whimsical, oddball, sunny nature of Louis - proved its onliest worth to me through years of life I was sure to spend with him.

I had Louis. He had me. 

This was what genuinely mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Merry Christmas and have a prosperous, twinkle-filled New Year!~


End file.
